If
you visited Potchefstroom, you might think that it was too small to have
street children. Unfortunately, you'd be wrong. However, the
good side of the story was that Potch was small enough that people knew
all of the street kids and there were resources available for them.

One
of those resources was the Thakaneng Project. It was a hard name
for me to pronounce (or remember), and I did misspell it while sketching
the mural, but I loved what it meant. Thakaneng translated as "A
place that is mine". That was a perfect name for a center that
cared for children who needed just such a place!

I
drew the sketch in the main room while several of the boys from Thakaneng
looked on. They couldn't believe what happened on the paper right
before their eyes. At least, that's what I was told when their whisperings
were translated. I knew for certain that they didn't expect what
would happen on the walls of their center in just two days.

It
wasn't all paint and murals though. I played pool with a couple
of the boys from Thakaneng. Well, that was putting it nicely.
They massacred me all over the table. One of the boys had the decency
to"accidentally" knock in about half of my balls. The
other boy had the decency to smile a lot as he killed me. Win or
lose, it was a lot of fun.

The
World Cup was in full swing as I painted in Potchefstroom. And,
all true supporters of Bafana Bafana (the South African team) knew how
to do the Diski dance.
It was dance with soccer moves that needed to be performed whenever the
team scored. (Unfortunately, they didn't have the opportunity to
dance often enough.) Anyway, I threw away all pride and asked the
boys at the center to teach me a few steps. I might as well have
asked them to teach me Chinese.

The
first move had something to do with putting your right leg out and shaking
it all about. But, it was nothing close to the hokey pokey which
I mastered in elementary school. Their legs just flowed. There
was no flow in my leg! Next, one boy decided to show me another
move. He squatted down on his legs but didn't quite sit on his heels.
Then, he started moving his hips. I'd never seen hips move like
that before in my life! I might have thrown away my pride, but I
wasn't about to try that.

No
videos were made of their dance moves, but that would have been wonderful.
And, although photos were taken of my dancing, nobody is ever going to
see them. Thrown away pride can only be thrown so far, after all.
Even though this white man can't dance, I think I made a positive impression.

Actually,
I knew the boys appreciated the mural. Just before I was ready to
sign the completed project, painting came to a stop. The young man
who spoke the most English had something to say for everyone in the group.
They wanted to officially thank me for coming to their shelter and painting
with them. Then, one by one, each boy shook my hand. It was
so moving. These boys had nothing and were thoughtful enough to
thank me. I was used to working with children who had everything
and rarely ever thought to make that gesture. Their act of kindness
certainly was the highlight of my day.